By Any Other Name
by CyanIllusions
Summary: Yuna wasn't the only Summoner. Isaaru muses, and the Fayth give and take. After all, once upon a time even the Aeons had true names.
1. Ifrit

**(Don't own 'em.)**

He prays and prays and prays but he doesn't look up because he doesn't want to see the accusing eyes or the fire that surrounds him, and finally he feels part of his soul slip away, away, away, a small bit for every prayer. Immediately, though, something replaces the missing piece; something hot and burning and aching, and he hurts inside because he's on _fire_, just like the room around him and the inferno sways and swirl and grow inside and out, white hot and filling some of the emptiness. A dark, burning voice, hotter than the hottest of fires and laden with regality and so _alive_ sounds in his head, deep and commanding.

_**I will burn you.**_

He knows, and the fire in him swells until it hurts, then fades and leaves a sputtering ache in his chest and soul and mind where he's empty again. He has to get used to this feeling, though, because this is only his first Aeon, and he will lose so much more later. He tries not to feel scared. He fails, but his brother is counting on him, and Spira is counting on him, and Mama and Papa probably are too up on the Farplane, so he figures he will be strong for the people he's lost and the people he will lose and the people who will lose him. It's hard, but so is life and it's even harder in Spira, and he's used to dealing with pain.

The fire is gone, but the voice isn't, and it still burns in his mind.

_**What is my name?**_ the voice whispers, all hot and power and explosions through whatever mental link they may have shared. He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to feel close to this creature, this not-quite-god of flames and earth, because this thing will probably kill him one day. _**I had a name, once.**_ The voice is still strong, still regal, still molten metal and lava, but now there was a hint of remorse. The voice is fading, tired of him, or perhaps being summoned elsewhere. _**What is my name?**_

He decides to let Maroda name this beast of flames. All creatures need names, even if they are only dreams or the dreams of dreams, even if they are only the dreamers. He doesn't know how he knows this, but he does, and as they turn to leave the temple at Kilika, the voice sounds softly in his head again, the volume weak but the intent strong.

_**I had a name, once.**_

They called him Grothia.


	2. Valefor

It's an odd feeling, he decides, sharing his head with someone else. Of course this is not a tangible person or being, but more of a collection of thoughts from a tangible person or being. But oddity or not he prays and prays and prays again, like all the others before him and the skin on the backs of his arms tingle under the sharp eyes of the woman who isn't really there and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rustle in the wind that doesn't exist, and bells chime and rings jangle as another small part of him is destroyed and reborn. It is filled again, and the sensation isn't as shocking as the last time, but he still isn't used to it. A voice slips in and out of his soul, whispering and fading and circling in the part that is made new and joined with something far larger than himself. A soft, fluting voice, as gentle as wind through water reeds and simple and _free_ murmurs softly, a small brush against his soul.

_**I will free you.**_

This seems much more promising, really, than the last, but there is still that sense of fear and anguish when the bells fade into silence and the wind dies down and part of him is left bare and hollow again. The feeling is no stranger, now, but the emptiness is bigger than before because he had to give more this time. And Spira is still counting on him. So he's strong for Spira, and for his brothers, and for everyone else. And even though he's a Summoner and he knows his fate, and Summoners are supposed to be selfless and kind and stronger for everyone and everything, he finds that as the wind brushes against him again to signal that the creature _(the woman, the Aeon, the Summon, the Fayth, the all and the nothing)_ wants to speak again… he finds that he wishes that, maybe.. maybe people could be strong for themselves, for once.

_**What is my name?**_

This ones voice isn't demanding or regal or burning or anything like the first, but somehow he finds himself terrified of it. The freedom this creature offered was tempting but the price was to high, and the one offering it was too sinister for him to trust. It whispers the question again, like the first, gentle and soft and bells and aching like the hole in his chest and in his heart and his head and his soul. He doesn't want to know the name of this beast, this creature of wind and freedom who wants to sing and fly and chime like the rings and bells he knows hang from its wings, and who wants him to do these things with it. _**I had a name, once.**_

He will let his youngest brother name this one, because he knows that even though he is a little emptier inside the privilege of christening the Aeon will delight the child to no end. All creatures need names, after all, even the dreamers.

When they exit the temple of Besaid and Maroda is talking to the ferryman abut the price to Luca, the breeze picks up and even against the restless shifting of the fire lord _(who had gone strangely silent inside the temple)_ he can hear the bells and chimes of the newest tenant of his soul. The soft, gentle, feminine, deceitful voice brushes against him again and he represses a shudder.

_**I had a name, once.**_

They called her Pterya.


	3. Ixion

He can barely hear Pacce outside as the air thrums around him and the lightening that isn't there crackles. Electric blue eyes watch him even as he whispers under his breath. With every prayer and murmur he loses bits and pieces of himself. The man sings, and the fire lord and the free one sing back. He knows this, even though he can't hear them in his head now, because the voices are everywhere in the Chamber, even if the one of the man in front of him is the loudest, and he can pick them out because he knows them better than knows himself now, maybe.

The prayers stop because he can't breathe and something jolts into him in angry bursts and he _hurts_ and then it stops and something, or maybe something_s_ because it's getting harder to tell one voice from the other now (even if he knows the sounds better than he knows himself, maybe), stirs quietly in his soul. Or his mind. Maybe he doesn't have a soul anymore. The new voice kicks his body into overdrive, jumpstarting it until his air stands on end and his fingers twitch with energy, and he quiet stir turns into a thick boom, like thunder over the sea; a frightening crack, like two rocks banged together; and something like the violent _snik snik snik_ of hooves beating against stone.

_**I will shock you.**_

He's not surprised, but he is afraid. Mama and Papa were killed by a thunder fiend, after Sin attacked and they were already hurt. Something in him quakes, and the being in him is mighty and powerful but it is sympathetic as well. He feels something like sorrow and for the first time he remembers that even the Aeons had been human. The thought prompts the question, and he struggles not to jump. _**What is my name?**_

The sparks ripple through him. He doesn't want to know the name, doesn't want to name it, because even if all creatures need name, he is afraid. If he names it, it will be real. The free one seems more inclined to speak, a whisper of wind against him. _**I thought even dreamers need names.**_ He knows in some part of him that is not him, but is not _them_ either, that this is true, and part of him is scared of this thought. The thunder steed mutters again, voice booming despite the volume.

_**I had a name, once.**_

They were human, once. They were human. He is surprised when he realizes that he has to remind himself that he is human too.

_**What is my name?**_

He is human, and he will allow himself a human pleasure; spite. He leaves the Chamber and his brothers follow. He stops when he sees the girl and her guardians.

_**I had a name, once.**_

They don't call him anything at all.


End file.
